The 23rd Blood
by seabreezewriter
Summary: This is my first fanfiction. I'm open to any comments! Please r&r. Also, the first chaper is a bit short and slow, but they will get better!


Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz. This is why I give all Gorillaz rights to genius creators Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett. Also, the OC Kirra is a creation of my friend Ashley who first made her on DeviantArt. She's very talented, check her out!

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Noodle

I stood on the broken pier facing out to sea on the day of my 21st birthday. The slight breeze ruffled my purple-black hair lightly and for a moment the smell of rotting plastic was replaced with the fresh aroma of the Pacific Ocean. I was still having trouble adjusting to the idea of calling Point Nemo my home. It was so far away from everything I loved. For the first time in my life, I wished I was at Kong. Yes, it was a big smelly landfill ridden with zombies, but it was the only real home I had ever known. I miss the way things were when we were at Kong, too. Murdoc has always been a jerk, but I never hated him until he left me to rot in Hell. Literally. Russel seemed so much fuller of life when Del was around. Now, while he still serves his role as my surrogate father, he cannot do anything other than sit and mourn the exorcism of his dearest friend. And 2D…2D was my best friend and I have lost him. He has always been addicted to his painkillers, but since my arrival on Plastic Beach, I have noticed he has been popping more pills than usual. His head seems to be somewhere else entirely. Whenever I try to spend time with him, he runs away. Why does he do this to me? All I want is my best friend back.

It's one of those mornings where I have been awake the entire night before and desperately need a sunrise walk to make myself sleepy. When I arrived on Plastic Beach, Murdoc tried to give me his master bedroom, probably as a way of apologizing. Of course it would take much more than a fancy room with an extensive hat collection and a pile of boxes for him to get my forgiveness. I politely rejected the master suite and asked that Big Rick's Record Shack become my room. It was previously occupied by the wedged-in Big Rick, but he soon decided to reside in a basement bedroom with Tattoo as a roommate. The record shack become mine. I needed to be surrounded by the music I love. So, struck down by a serious case of insomnia I rolled out of bed at daybreak and began walking around the perimeter of Plastic Beach. It was such an ugly thing, but the morning sun cast a glow on it in such a way that for just a moment, everything seemed to be beautiful and full of life. I made my way towards the old broken pier. It was so rickety that sometimes I was afraid it would crack under my petite weight. I climbed the ladder to reach where the pier had snapped and lifted the police tape so that I could continue on. I perched myself by the telescope in the farthest pavilion. Peering into it put the island into perspective. There was the lighthouse, the mansion, the pelican, the dead person, the submarine…wait…THE DEAD PERSON!

Lying on the beach was obviously a person coiled into the fetal position. They sparkled in the sun. Racing down to where they were, I began to notice that they were not in fact dead, but very alive. The person rolled themselves over and groaned lightly. It was a girl with blond hair cut into a bob and curled, smudged smokey eyeliner, and the most beautiful dress you could ever imagine. A short sleeved column dress in the fairest shade of pink adorned with crystals. Her bright red lips began to move and her eyes batted long black lashes towards me. She was trying to talk with me. I kneeled down next to her. She tried to stand up, but failed and fell back to the ground. "who are you?" I asked. That is when I spotted the dainty blade she held clutched in her left hand. She maneuverd a stab at my neck, but in her exhaustion missed and fell over, entirely passed out. I ran into the house and made a mad dash for the elevator. Tattoo was not yet awake, so I called up the lift by myself. I punched the key to the master bedroom and "Hong Kong" played lightly as I ascended. Kicking a leather bucket out of my way in the narrow hall to the Master Suite, I kicked the door open. "MURDOC!"

Marie DuPreau

They keep asking me where I have come from, and all I can say is 'I don't know.' I suppose this would be a case of amnesia, but I remember some things. My name, for example; it's Marie DuPreau. I remember loving the smell of roses and lavender, and hating the violent stomach-churning sensation of flying. Flying. I know I flew here. I would never set foot on a boat which would have been the only alternative to a plane to reach this location. They call it "Plastic Beach." I suppose that would be an appropriate name, being as it is a BEACH made of PLASTIC-the ocean-tumbled rubbish of mankind that has collectively congregated and been dyed a terrible shade of Pepto-Bismol pink. It reeks like a landfill. The people here are odd. The first person I remember seeing was the tiny Asian girl named Noodle. She is the first memory I recall clearly.

I was laying on the beach with the broken pier in site when she appeared. She was running towards me. I tried to say something, but no words came out aside from an unintelligible mumble. She stopped mid-stride and cocked her head in my direction. When she saw me she walked towards me leisurely. It was like she was used to random people showing up on this island. I remembered something else; my blade. I pulled it out of my delicate clutch purse and held its handle tightly in my left hand. When she knelt down next to me, I tried to stab her in the neck, but I missed by a terribly large margin. The quick exertion of energy caused me to fall back over. Then I blacked out.

Noodle

Murdoc Niccals. The BAIN of my existence; the very reason I suffered in Hell for years. The reason 2D is insane. The reason there are lots of little Murdocs running around. But also, the reason I'm famous; the reason Gorillaz IN GENERAL is famous. Not that I am grateful in the least. The green mad lay sprawled on his bed wearing only his thong to bed. He was snoring loudly. Apparently my yelling his name did nothing to wake him up. He rolled over in his sleep and muttered "Winnebago…?" Was he still dreaming about that dieses shack that Dr. Wurzel was driving who knows where? Repulsive. I grabbed a water bottle off of his golden nightstand, screwed the cap off, and splashed the entire contents into his face. I think that was water… Murdoc sputtered and coughed away, his bloodshot eyes bulging and his face clearly becoming ridden with rage at me for tossing water into his face.

"Wot the bloody 'ell you doing waking me up at this hour!" Murdoc roared at me.

"A girl washed up on the beach and she just tried to kill me!" I retaliated. Murdoc rolled his blood shot eyes at me.

"Well go wake up someone who cares!" He growled at me as he slammed his sodden pillow over his head like a child asking "five more minutes!"

"Bastard." I mumbled as I tossed the now empty plastic water bottle aside. I slammed his door shut loudly. Who would I tell now? I did not want to bother Russel. As much as I think of him as a father, he would probably just tell me to go back to bed. Plus, he has enough stuff to deal with. So I hesitantly reached out, hit "2D's Room" and made the sub aquatic descent.

Marie DuPreau

In my comatose state, I dreamt of the past that I had momentarily forgotten in a state of amnesia. Unthinkably terrible memories rushed back into my head. I saw children dying and entire cities being obliterated. The worst part was I was the one who was causing the chaos. In the worst flashback, I stood by someone I knew I was close to but could not remember their name. He was tall and handsome with a flourish of red hair and a dusting of freckles over his heat-flushed cheeks. We were standing on a barge in the middle of the ocean. I knew we had to be miles from land because it was a perfectly cloudless day and all I could see in either direction was water. My hand was clasped in his, but we were not looking at each other. Our eyes were on a slightly elevated black speck on the horizon. As it came closer, we could see that it was a plane. It began firing at us and the people surrounding us. The boy drew me into a quick but passionate kiss and then pulled me out of the fray. We pressed our backs against the face of a cliff that jutted up behind us, but even the cliff could not conceal us, and I watched as he feel dead at my feet. I was sobbing as I felt the ground shake beneath me, and as I passed out in one memory, I awoke to reality. I was on Plastic Beach.


End file.
